Rosemarie Returns
by WideEyedDreamer01
Summary: PART 2 OF THE ROSEMARIE TRILOGY Rose and her friends have escaped the CIA's clutches and been recruited to the underworld Guardians, an organization determined to wreak havoc upon the intelligence agencies of the world. But all is not as it seems as the web tangles with betrayal, unfinished business and unrequited love. Rosemarie's back-darker and more vengeful than ever.
1. Rosemarie Returns

**It's here! The first chapter of Rosemarie Returns, which y'all have been waiting patiently (or not so patiently) for. Remember to review/follow/enjoy!**

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_Previously: I could see right now that the road ahead was dangerous, full of twists and turns, betrayal and heartbreak and uncertainty. I took a moment to collect myself, preparing to buckle in for yet another chapter in the convoluted, entangled web that had become my life. _

_"So, where do we begin?" I asked quietly. _

_The mole smiled fleetingly as they walked away from the body, disappearing into the night._

_Belikov could do the rest. And the best was yet to come._

* * *

Dimitri Belikov had a long-since established reputation as one of the smartest, badass agents in the intelligence world, and to many, his skills were considered worth his weight in gold. But, the onlooker mused, come nightfall, the cold, business-only façade he had so perfected came crashing down. They watched him intently, watched his restless, fitful sleep, his handsome face contorted in an expression of pain. They didn't know how long they crouched there in the darkened, almost eerie room they had, in fact, visited a few times before, albeit under a very different set of circumstances. They were almost invisible, a ghost, in fact, just there to watch, to listen, to observe and think. A surge of…impatience, perhaps? Came over them, and their jaw tightened. They wanted their reward. They wanted what they had been promised when they had first agreed to do this job. They wanted _him._ They were startled when he sat up, grabbing a pillow and pulling it over his head, but then relaxed, realizing he was still asleep, only dreaming. The man groaned, rolling over onto his stomach.

"Roza," he mumbled through the pillow. "Roza, _come back_," he sighed. The mole's mouth soured. _Roza._ It had been over a month, and they had been informed only days before her breakout that Belikov believed Hathaway a traitor, that he now hated her, but here was evidence to support the contrary. They would have to work a little harder to convince him. The mole glanced down at the revolver clipped to the belt and smiled. How quickly Belikov's life could end, should they choose to do act in such a way. Fingers curled briefly around the revolver, but only for an instant. Dimitri was not the target; he was, in fact, the prize. Turning quickly on their heel, the mole stalked away down the empty corridor, out of the apartment block, away from Dimitri. Tonight was not the night to get caught. Tonight, they had a job to do.

* * *

A half-hour later, the mole was staring down at the lifeless body of the male receptionist who worked in Belikov's building. It was a carefully calculated move: the mole's bosses didn't dare strike somebody close to Belikov, there was too much security. No, it was the innocent, the helpless, the unprotected who always got the short straw._ Like me_, they thought. _Like me, before I wised up and joined the winning team._ They signed the name with a flourish, and smiled down at the body.

"Thank you," they told the body. _You and the next ones are going to help us become very, very rich, and very, very powerful,_ they thought to themselves. But patience, they told themselves. They had already been chastised about being to eager, doing things too quickly. It lead to mistakes, Dashkov had said. The mole had protested, but knew he was right. A single false step could jeopardize everything, and that would not do. Especially when Dimitri was almost in their hands. Especially as, as they stood here, the deadliest information in the world-the plans-were secretly being stolen from the Strigori themselves. No, mistakes would not do. After the mole had managed to find out where Hathaway and her friends were, Dashkov had urged patience rather than drastic action. He did not want to kill them, not yet, but rather watch as they stumbled blindly, helplessly into his hands. That was, at least, the explanation he had proffered. The mole knew better-that Dashkov was struggling to find them, that they had been well concealed by the Guardians, although Dashkov said otherwise. It made them slightly uneasy. They were supposed to be working together. Them, Dashkov, Nathan…

But of course, Dashkov was a snake, that fact had been proven time and again. He was only eager to fulfill his own interests, and woe betide anyone who got in his way. That was why they were working hard to make sure they weren't in his way, that thy became an integral part of his plans- because only then would Dashkov reward them. So the lie didn't bother them, so long as the result was achieved. At any rate, the mole was content to wait a little while for Rosemarie's fate to catch up with her-and if it was not death, well, there were certainly fates much worse than death. Suddenly, as they stepped back into the shadows, knowing it would be at least an hour before the body was discovered, they were hit with a dark thought, hands curling around _her_ favorite lipstick. The mole raised their head to the darkened sky, lit only by smog-muffled stars, and stared into the darkness.

"We know where you are," they whispered. "And it's only a matter of time before you die, along with all of your friends. You're _dead_, Rose Hathaway!" They hissed, with a savage kind of grin. With that, the new and improved Rosemarie disappeared silently into the night.

Two thousand miles away on the verandah of a Caribbean mansion, nestled into the sticky tropical forest, the real Rose Hathaway awoke with a start.

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**Ooh, straight back into the drama! Tell me what you think guys ;)**

**OH, ONE LAST THING: I just heard that a guest reviewer nominated my Rose By Day, Thorn By Night for the best VA story of 2012, so a shoutout to them! Thank you so much, ****_it means so much! Next chapter real soon!_**

**_Em xx_**


	2. Pancakes & Plans

**Next chapter, yay! It's been a while but school just went back so life is hectic again. Enjoy!**

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I was running in a dark tunnel, barely able to see a foot in front of my face. For hours now I had been trying to get there, but I couldn't seem to find the way. I was getting desperate. I needed… something. What, I wasn't sure of. The only sound I could hear was that my own footsteps were making; everything else had stopped. Suddenly, I wasn't underground any more, I was out in the open, but it was still dark. Only a few street lamps lit the broad but deserted street-and it was one I recognized. It was the street that had led from my old apartment down to central park, the pavement of which I had ran along three times a week. Now, that seemed like a lifetime ago, and it was. An old life. An old Rose. She was gone now. I increased the length and speed of my footsteps. I was nearly there. I was so, so close. I saw the fountain approaching, I saw him standing there.

"Dimitri!" I gasped, skidding to a halt. He smiled back sweetly at me, and stepped forwards.

"I've missed you, Roza," he said quietly, but then as I leant towards him, his expression changed to one of disgust, then one of hate, and I stumbled backwards, surprised.

"How could you?" He snarled. "You lied to everyone. An agent died the day you exploded the car, Rose. You're a monster!" He spat, and terrified, I took off running again, scrambling for breath. He was chasing me now, and he would outrun me in a moment or two. As I rounded a corner, Victor Dashkov appeared, aiming a gun straight for me, and my heart plummeted.

"Comrade, watch out!" I screamed, and heard the blast. I swung around and screamed again. He was dead. Dimitri was lying on the ground, eyes vacant, unseeing, a horrible red mark spreading across his chest. Dashkov stood over him with a smile, then stepped aside. Behind him were more bodies. Lissa. Mia. Sydney. Christian, Adrian, Mason, Eddie. My mother and father. Alberta and Mikhail. I was frozen, staring at then with wide eyes. This wasn't possible. It wasn't happening. It couldn't be real.

"I'll be seeing you, Rose," Dashkov said, made me a bow, and dissapearred. As he vanished, red words appeared on each of the bodies in intricate, beautiful handwriting. Trembling, I looked down, already knowing what it would read. The same word on each of the bodies of those I loved. The name of the person who was responsible for their deaths.

_Rosemarie._

"Noooo!"

* * *

I woke gasping for breath and with tears running down my face, my heart still pounding from the dream that had plagued me nearly every night since that day. Every time it was newly horrifying. I laid back to look up at the stars, the hammock still swinging from me sitting bolt upright. It was just a dream, I told myself. I tried to calm my shaking, and failed. In actual fact, the threat of my dream was very real. I had spited Dashkov when I escaped, and it would be my fault-and mine only-if he sought revenge on the others. I would talk to the Guardians, I told myself. I'd make sure nothing happened to them. But my problem ran deeper than that-I still wanted what I had been searching for in my dream. I wanted Dimitri. I gazed out past the verandah, into the tropical forest surrounding us. At first, it had seemed amazing, but now it was suffocating. I wanted out. I wanted to be doing something, finding Dashkov, but the Guardians had insisted that we continue lying low. I turned and walked back into the house-if you could call it that-and surveyed its beauty. It was made of different coloured marble, mainly white, with a large kitchen and dining room and a few lounges in natural colours that reflected our surroundings.

My feet made no noise on the marble staircase as I entered my room. I barely slept in the large, plush bed, preferring to sleep on a hammock outside most nights. Before I knew it, I was packing a small bag of the things I would need-money, passport, weapon, and threw on some proper clothes. Feeling like a mutineer, but dispelling the thought, I slipped out of the house, pausing at the front door. I would be gone a few days, tops. I just needed to see him. Even if he didn't know I was there. I just wanted to make sure he was alright.

"Rose," a quiet voice said, and I nearly jumped out of my skin, spinning around. Adrian walked to meet me, his hands shoved into his pockets, hair ruffled-he'd clearly been sleeping, too.

"Go away, Adrian," I said, my voice tight, and moved to the front steps. He blocked my path with a determined look on his face.

"I can't let you do this."

"Can't, or won't?" I snapped. A grim smile ghosted his face.

"Take your pick, little spy, the result's gonna be the same."

"Adrian, I need to see him," I said, the impatience rising in my voice. "I need to tell him the truth, and I need to make sure he's safe."

"And you think that he's going to be any safer with you around?" Adrian snapped, rather out-of-character. I tightened my jaw.

"Get out of my way, Adrian, I don't want to have to hurt you." His eyes narrowed.

"You won't," he stated sharply, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Wanna bet?" I spat, and shoved past him, but then he was right back there, like one of those dolls that just keep bouncing back no matter how many times you hit 'em.

"Rose, just listen to me," he hissed. "You have to be reasonable. You think that you're not going to get caught? You won't be able to resist talking to him. He thinks you did it, Rose, and talking won't help that. And you're no help to anyone stuck in a jail cell." I bit my lip, knowing he was, in fact, right, and slumped to the chair next to the door.

"I-I just can't stand the fact that he's out there and thinking bad of me," I said quietly. Adrian sat next to me, and put his arm around my shoulders.

"Not for long," he told me, and laughed. "I overheard a phone conversation, apparently something went down early this morning. Emergency meeting today in the capital. So by all accounts you picked a pretty crappy day to run away." He raised an eyebrow. "So you gonna beat my ass up or stay?" I sighed, rolling my eyes at him, and gave him a quick one-armed hug.

"Adrian, I'm sorry. Thank you," I whispered. "For not letting me get arrested or anything." He chuckled.

"That's what friends are for," he drawled, then gave me a sidelong glance. "Hey, Rosie, d'you want to-"

"No, Adrian, for the last time, I do not want to have a threesome with you and Sydney," I said, rather wearily. He grinned, but shook his head.

"Nah, she wasn't keen. And I was just going to ask if you were hungry." I grinned, my spitirts raised by the thought of food, and I made a beeline for the kitchen.

"Is that a trick question?" I asked, some of the darkness now fading from my mind. So while the sun began to break over the forest, we made enough pancakes to feed a small army. By the time they were cooking, Lissa and Christian had stumbled downstairs wearing mismatched clothing and bed hair, thus it was perfectly obvious it hadn't been the iguana causing all those thumping noises in the walls. I raised an eyebrow at Christian, who grinned, holding up four fingers and mouthing "four times." I shuddered involuntarily.

"Morning!" Liss said brightly. "Yum, pancakes."

"Who said they were for you?" I teased, and she shrugged, grabbing a stack and sitting on Christian's lap. Sydney was next down the stairs, Mia in tow, and they were having a heated argument about which house they would be in if they went to Hogwarts. Sydney's face brightened as she saw Adrian and proceeded to stick her tongue down Adrian's mouth, leaving Mia and I to grab our pancakes and make a run for it before we had to disinfect the kitchen counter. Again. My father appeared seemingly out of nowhere, wearing his usual business suit and frowning to somebody on the phone.

"Yes, I understand," I heard him say. "Excellent, we'll be there." He snapped it shut and smiled at me, I gave him an expectant look. He grinned.

"Food first." Clearly, like father, like daughter, I thought to myself, stabbing a pancake.

"Bet you can do it in one," Mia dared me, and Christian grinned.

"Oh, there's no end to how much Rose can fit in her mouth." I made a face at him.

"Ew, babe," Lissa complained.

"That's my daughter you're talking about, Ozera," my father commented mildly. "Kiz, shall I disembowel him?" I shrugged.

"Nah, s'good, Lissa likes him," I said through a pancake or two. I heard Mia and Sydney revert back to their Hogwarts argument, and my heart warmed as I looked around the table feeling like these people had become my family. We were in this together, for better or for worse. But there was still this…well, hole. It was a place where Mason and Eddie once were, one that I had become used to living without. But there was another one as well, a newer one, and it belonged to Dimitri. I couldn't banish him from my mind, he was always there. I found myself wishing that we were on the same side. We would be one pretty badass team. But instead we were opposites-Dashkov's divide-and-conquer technique was working to perfection. Not for long, I told myself. I had to trust the guardians to do the right thing, to try and work in conjunction with the CIA. Although that hardly seemed likely-they had zero regard for the Agency as they were what they called government-affiliated, because they thought politics could distort the way of justice. I just hoped somehow, it would work out. There was a bigger enemy here than belief, and I had to make them see that. I met my father's gaze, and he smiled.

"We're to meet them in Port-of-Spain at ten," he informed us.

"Who's gonna be there? I asked." He shrugged.

"Kirova, a few of the higher-up alchemists. It's something important, they wouldn't tell me on the phone." We exchanged glances. Was this it? After a month and a half of lying low, were we about to find out what had happened? One could only hope.

* * *

I liked Port-of-Spain, it was the capital of the island and felt exactly how I'd always imagined a Carribean city would. Small yet bustling, full of colour and energy, the odd street fight, and steel pan music playing in the background. A mixture of English, Spanish, Indian and universal profanities filled the slightly smoky air. The guardian building had a sign that read 'Chamber of Commerce & Immigration' stuck to the front of it, and looked just like any other along the crowded street -graffiti marred, eighteenth century architecture. We all filed into the building, which looked just like any other as well-a bored receptionist sat at the desk playing tetris on her phone, a few chairs and some stuffy looking books, doors leading into offices (that weren't actually there). Sparing us only a glance, she stepped out from behind her office and nodded to us. We approached, and she pressed a button on her desk. Silently, a huge slab of the granite floor slid away, revealing a well-lit passage of stairs downwards.

"They are expecting you in the black room. You know the way," she told us, and I raised an eyebrow. On our prior visits, we had never been allowed in there. It was where the most secret members of the organisation spoke, and was reserved solely for topics of great importance. An uneasy excitement building in the group, I followed my friends down, and we were hit by a blast of air conditioning as we stepped into a beautiful corridor decorated with priceless artifacts, most Egyptian or chinese. After a handful of security scans we were allowed to proceed into the main corridors. The Black room was at the very end of the longest corridor, well hidden away. So well hidden, if you didn't know about it, you probably wouldn't even know it was there. Its windows were tinted and it had a heavy-looking door with an oranate black knocker on it. Before we could knock, though, or even argue about who got to do so, the door slid open. It was pleasantly cool inside, and decorated in vintage pieces with hues of dark purple, black and silver.

"Sit down," Kirova instructed us, her stern mouth making me feel like I was back at high school. Her hawklike eyes seemed even more worried than usual, and it was only then that I realised there were others in the room. A youngish guy, maybe a little older than Dimitri, an old man and a middle-aged woman regarded us with interest.

"Forgive me," Kirova said, a smile playing on her lips. "You must meet the rest of the Council." She turned to the man. "Ivan Zelokos, meet Abriham, Adrian, Christian, Vasalissa, Mia, -Sydney, you know-and Rosemarie." He nodded to us all, a smile lighting up his attractive features, blue eyes appraising us.

"My pleasure," he said, with a hint of a Russian accent.

"Ivan is a Member of the Council, as well as a Golden Alchemist." I raised an eyebrow- he was awfully young, not to mention the most senior person, bar Kirova herself, who I believed ran the organisation- we had ever met. Alchemists were ranked according to precious metals-weird, I know-and Sydney, who I knew was extremely revered-was only a Silver Alchemist.

"This-"she guestures to the green eyed, brown-haired woman-is "Haleigh Ishkavov." I turned to Adrian in surprise.

"We're distant cousins," the woman chimed in in a lilting voice that sounded faintly irish, smiling at Adrian.

"Haleigh was the only one of our family who decided to keep the connection with the guardians," Adrian said dryly.

"The final member of the Council is Guardian Tanner," Kirova told us, and my eyebrows shot up.

"You're related to Mikhail?" He nodded wryly.

"I am his uncle. Unfortunately, our paths separated a long time ago." There was a silence, and Kirova sighed impatiently.

"Yes, you may come in," she said on the intercom, and the door slid open. Stan Alto, grinning broadly, walked through it, and I gasped.

"Stan?"

"Hey, Rose," he said, with some affection in his voice. "Been well?"

"Yeah…I never expected to see you again."

"Neither did I," he grumbled. "Can't do anything quietly, can ya, Hathaway? Anyway," he shrugged, "I've been a Guardian here for about twenty odd years."

"I think you'd like to see our newest alchemists," Kirova said, with a slight smile on her face, and in walked Jill and Callum. To my surprise, Lissa squealed.

"Jill?"

"Liss!" Jill gasped back, and crossing the floor, gave her a huge hug.

"Wait…You guys know each other?" Lissa grinned.

"Rose, we're half-sisters. I told you I had a sister ages ago, but I didn't realise you knew her, too!"

"This is weird," I mumbled, and everybody laughed.

"Anyway," Kirova said briskly. "Down to business. We called you here to inform you that our fears have been confirmed. Dashkov stole the plans last night, the CIA knows they are missing but don't know who took them or how they got them. They do suspect Dashkov, but there's too much panic for them to begin pursuing him yet."

"What are his intentions?" My father asked gravely.

"He plans to sell them," Ivan said abruptly. "To the highest bidder."

"In the wrong hands they will be fatal," Tanner said wearily. I frowned.

"But I thought you didn't care who got them. You just want to make it fair."

"Our mission is to preserve peace and promote equality." I gave her a yeah-so stare, and she grimanced.

"He will not sell to a country, Rose. He will sell to a private businessman like himself, only interested in using the information for monetary gain."

"But eventually, they'll end up in a government's hands," Adrian said. Haleigh nodded grimly.

"Exactly. And the countries who will spend billions of dollars trying to buy this technology-"

"-Are the exact same countries who cannot be allowed to have it," Sydney finished.

"Our priorities have changed, Rose," Kirova told me. "It is much better that nobody has this technology than everybody to have it, we realise that now. To allow or facilitate its spread into unstable, corrupt countries would be unethical and as good as starting a war. Our aim is to intercept Dashkov's plans and then destroy the technology, or safeguard it. We are the only ones who can be trusted not use it for our own gain." I nodded.

"That makes sense. Do you know who he's selling to? Or when?"

"The deal will happen in Europe, of that we're fairly certain. Who, we don't know. When, as soon as he can, he knows he's got a target on his head," Ivan said.

"We would like to send you to London," Kirova said seriously. "Some guardians will be there to safeguard you, but your main help will come from the CIA." I blinked.

"What?" I said, in unison with Lissa and Christian.

"We will tip them off that Dashkov will sell in London, but upon arriving, you must not tell them of our own plans to intercept. They must believe our intentions are still as whistle-blowers, not as active participants."

"So we lie?" Mia asked. Ivan smiled grimly.

"No, we just don't tell them the whole truth."

"Why can't the information just go back to the CIA?" My father asked, rather reasonably.

"They lost it once, they will lose it again," Kirova sighed. "It means to double-cross an ally, but it is, we believe, nessecary." Ivan leant forwards towards me.

"We do not insist on your going to London, but I realise that you need a chance to clear your names, and this would be a good opportunity to do so. The CIA will respect the Guardians once we give them credible information, and we will advise them of your innocence-or, at least, honourable intentions."

What if they don't believe us? I asked softly.

"Then you will have the full protection of this organization," Kirova said, slightly sternly. "We are not accustomed to watching those who help us die or go to jail. Your names will be cleared." There was a silence as we all thought this over.

"Sure, I'm in," Christian shrugged. Adrian nodded his agreement.

"I would already be going as an Alchemist, but for what it's worth, I'm coming with you guys anyway", Sydney chimed in.

"In," Lissa said firmly, and my father sighed, then nodded.

"Sure. One last adventure before retirement."

"That'll be the day," I muttered. "I didn't know the mafia gave out pensions."

"And a gold watch," he deadpanned.

"Yup!" Mia said with a slightly evil smile that worried me a little bit. All eyes turned to me, and I nodded, then sighed.

"Sure, what the hell. Let's go to London."

* * *

**So there's a little insight into the Guardians for you, as well as the addition of some familiar faces. Rose is still having Dimitri-issues, but I promise they'll get a chance to talk them out soon enough! Please leave a review!**

**Em xx**


	3. Chapter 3: Insomnia, Hipsters & London

**So…Rosemarie Returns, updated after a freaking ice age…Sorry about that…Hope you enjoy**!

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I've heard it said that somewhere, somehow, that some lucky bastards actually have something called a work-life balance. Even today, the mantra of work hard, play hard makes me chuckle. Mainly because the CIA has a mantra that runs along the lines of "coffee is our salvation, you can sleep when you're dead." It was five am, and the whole building was alive. About half had come in within the past half-hour, and the other half, like me, had never left last night.

Having top-secret nuclear plans stolen right from under your noses has a way of doing that to a place. Everyone was frantic, panicked, and rumours and accusations were flying everywhere. Resultingly, I could not remember when I had last slept for more than two hours at a time. I was only slightly ashamed to say that I did have a sleeping bag under my desk. Already on my second pot-yes, pot, of coffee that day, I rubbed my eyes as I wondered why I did this job.

Oh, yeah. I remembered. For the high that came with catching a criminal. For the adrenaline that came with solving a murder, knowing that because of your actions, the rest of the world slept a little bit easier at night, even if you were a clinically diagnosed insomniac yourself.

But then, every once in a while, life throws you a curveball you just can't duck.

In my case, it was finding out my beautiful girlfriend just happened to be the murderer I'd been tracking for six months. Um. Awkward? I sighed as I rubbed my eyes once again, trying to banish the memories of Rose-my Rose-from my mind, and failing. I needed a distraction. I was surrounded in her, unable to separate Rose and Rosemarie, constantly reminded of the painful memories-

Just then, the phone rang, and I practically launched myself at it.

"Belikov," I said, a little too quickly. Mason laughed.

"Expecting somebody else, Dimitri? Another hot date?" I decided that the next time I saw him, I'd feed him to the nearest hungry animal. Preferably alive.

"Did you just call me to piss me off, or was there some purpose to your call?" I snapped.

"Yeah, Alberta's holding a meeting. There's been another attack," he said heavily, and I swallowed hard. He didn't even have to say the word, and I knew what it meant. It was another Rosemarie attack. The idea that she was still here, still inflicting damage, broke my heart and angered me immensely at the same time.

"Okay," I managed. "Where?"

"Coffee shop on ninth avenue. Alberta's taken over the entire place, it's like the fucking Spanish inquisition down here. She kicked about fifty hipsters out and they got all passive-aggressive pissed off with her, it was pretty hilarious." I tried and failed to ignore that amusing visual image.

"I'll find Eddie, we'll be there in a few," I told him, and hung up, crossing over to the office next to mine. Eddie was lying curled up in his sleeping bag, muttering unintelligibly. I aimed a kick at his side, unable to resist. I guessed it was payback for a few days ago, when Mason and Eddie found me sleeping, and decided it would be really funny to taser me while I was asleep and see what happened. It had not been pretty, and had involved Mason dangling off a balcony whilst the rest of our office either videotaped or laughed. Eddie groaned, rolling over sideways. I kicked him again.

"Meeting on ninth avenue. We need to be there now," I told him, and he raised his head.

"Anything interesting?" He grumbled. "I ain't getting out of bed for a team building meeting. I shrugged.

"Angry hipsters and a murder?" He sighed, and it sounded rather saint-like.

"Okay, only for the hipsters. God, what day is it?" He groaned. I frowned, trying to remember.

"I'm…Fuck, I have no clue," I muttered back. "Come on, let's get down there." He chucked his sleeping bag over his chair, and stood up, straightening his shirt. He'd slept in his work clothes, I noted, and he pulled a long jacket over it to hide his rumpled shirt. Not that anybody was probably going to care.

"Is it a Rosemarie?" He asked hesitantly as we rode the elevator down, and I nodded tersely.

"Yep." He sighed.

"Christ. That's the second one this week." Our walk to the coffee shop was brisk, the cold morning air serving to wake both of us up a little more by the time we reached our destination. Mason had been right-it did look like an invasion had happened. Tables had been set up in little bunches, a few long ones running down the middle. The sidewalk was taped off and we ducked under the tape to swing the door open. At once, Alberta spied us.

"Dimitri, Eddie, over here," she called, waving us over to a large table.

"What happened?" Eddie asked.

"Secretary was attacked about midnight," Mikhail said gravely, passing Alberta a mug of coffee, and indicating to the urn on the table for us. "Elise Bradford, twenty-two years old. Just out of college." I sucked in a breath. That was young. Really, really young.

"Why would she-"

"We don't know," Alberta said tiredly. "Bradford was a secretary, for godsake. She didn't know anything about Rose's past, about the strigoi, about Victor Dashkov. She was just an innocent." I shook my head, unable to comprehend it. It was so senseless, so tragic, so…evil. Why would Rose have done a thing like that?

"There's more," Eddie, said, looking at Alberta's hesitant expression. "What else?"

"Elise wasn't killed," she said slowly. "Rosemarie…she failed." It's completely out of line with all the other murders, apart from the last two.

"You mean, apart from the two that happened since she escaped," I said, trying to work it out.

"Everything about it is different. Method, type of person, time of day…I just don't know what to think anymore," Alberta said tiredly.

"Copycat," Mason said, voicing what we were all thinking. "It has to be." Mikhail shrugged.

"Copycat, maybe. That or she's expanding her circle." There was silence for a minute.

"Alberta," I tried. "Why can't we come back to the Rosemarie case again? Let Eddie, Mason and I back on it. If that tip-off was anything to believe, if we find Rose, we find Dashkov." We had received a tip off implying that Rose had been working with Dashkov to distract us while he stole the plans- Mason, typically, was adamant that it couldn't be true, but Alberta and Mikhail hadn't been so sure. I wasn't even sure what to think- I couldn't even be sure I knew who Rose was anymore. But since the plans had been stolen, the CIA had moved nearly everyone off the Rosemarie case to concentrating on Dashkov; they were letting a small, younger team handle Rosemarie. Alberta glared at me.

"Drop it, Belikov, Dashkov's more important," she said flatly.

"What if they are linked?" I challenged.

"If that is true, Rose is a master at disguise, better than Dashkov ever was. He leaves a trail, which makes him easier to find. We already know he's somewhere in Europe."

"That makes it so much easier," I said sarcastically. "There's only fifty countries in Europe across more than ten million square kilometres." Alberta narrowed her eyes at me.

"Look, Dimitri. You have a personal connection to Rosemarie. I get that. Not to sound crass, but New York has plenty of murderers. We don't even know if this is our Rose or not. There aren't so many evil masterminds capable of wiping the entire world out ten times over. So this organization is focussing on the latter. Get used to it." She brushed past me to refill her coffee, leaving me biting my tongue but knowing somehow she was right. Mason made a gesture akin to cracking a whip, and I scowled at him.

"So that got us nowhere, we can't go near Rosemarie and we have no idea where the asshole with the nukes has gone," I summarised. Mason snickered.

"Right little ray of sunshine in the morning, aren't you?" Before I could tell Mason exactly where I thought he should stick his ray of sunshine, Eddie shoved past us to peer at the laptop screen.

"Hey, what's this?" He asked curiously, and we crowded around the screen. A message had popped up on my screen- not an email, it looked like one of those windows notification messages the computer sends internally. But the weird thing was, it was addressed to our until- codename Operation Recovery, dedicated to finding Dashkov.

"Should we open it?" Eddie asked in a hushed voice. "It could be a trap."

"Alberta, Mikhail," I called, and, hearing the tone of my voice, they came over immideately.

"What the hell is that?" Mikhail said quizzacly.

"Read it," Mason urged Eddie. Eddie clicked the open box and began to read aloud.

"_Operation Recovery-_

_We want to help you recover what you have lost. The one you seek will be at 51.5171, 0.1062 in 15 hours. Do not underestimate him. Remember what he did in his past life. We have both the power and resources to be an ally or an enemy. We hope for your sake you chose the former._

_-The Guardians."_

"The guardians," Mason said in awe. "They're the stuff of legends."

"I thought they didn't exist," Eddie muttered.

"Oh, they exist all right," Alberta said grimly. "Damn hard to get information on, and even harder to find. We thought they were mostly a peaceful organization with no punch. Clearly we thought wrong, if they know that kind of stuff, and they were able to hack into our system."

"If they're talking about Dashkov…What does it mean, his past life?" Mason questioned.

"Dashkov was a stockbroker," Mikhail told us. "He was the middle man, the one who made sure the deals go through-" he paused in horror.

"He's going to sell them," I breathed. "He doesn't want them for himself, but he'll sell them to someone who does." _Oh, dear._

"Who knows who he'll sell to. Probably another businessman," Mikhail shrugged.

"Whoever it is, it will be somebody who we specifically protected the plans from," Alberta said grimly, then threw a cup at an opposite wall- not one person in the room was perturbed. "Shit!"

"Hang on, I said slowly. "The guardians…if they're really that powerful, they could have been the Benefactor."

"What did I tell you?" Alberta said exasperatedly. "Drop it, Belikov, Dashkov is more important!"

"I know, but it's possible," I defended myself.

"What's that string of numbers?" Eddie said, doing a brilliant job, if but a little obvious, of staving off another unnecessary argument where I got my ass handed to me. Instead, we turned our attention to the screen again, squinting at the small writing. There was silence for a moment as we tried to decipher what the numbers meant. Eventually we gave up and called over the codebreakers, all of whom tried and failed to crack it. The chief codebreaker was whizzing through solutions, cursing as nothing was turned up, when eventually, Mason laughed.

"Hang on, I know what they are." Every head turned to him. Alberta huffed.

"Okay, I'll bite," she said sarcastically. He smirked, then continued.

"Coordinates," he said simply. "I didn't see it without the degrees sign, but they're the coordinates of…" He paused, the colour draining from his face. "London. A twenty hour flight away." I exchanged a glance with Alberta, who nodded firmly. I sighed, preparing myself for the next installation in this screwed-up-saga, which no doubt would be damaging, stressful and utterly exhausting

"I guess we're breaking a few speed limits, then," I said grimly.

* * *

**Sorry, this chap was a bit filler-ish, but now the CIA and the guardians are on the same page (kind of). D/R meeting is next chapter, guys! Get excited! As usual, reviewers and feedback are very much loved. :)**

**Em xx**


	4. Intervention, Part One

**Wow. This is late. I'm really, super sorry. Thanks for bearing with me. I had a little bit of time and wrote this kind of as a token of my appreciation for your patience and the fact that yes, Rosemarie Returns has not been forgotten. Enjoy :)**

* * *

_"Loove_ London," Mia trilled, her curly hair spinning around like a misinformed halo as we stepped of the jet. "Just _looove_ it." Sydney rolled her eyes, but it was clear to me that even the most responsible member of our group couldn't contain her excitement at being in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. After months of being stuck in the Caribbean, it was safe to say we'd all developed cabin fever, and now everything-the sights, the smells, the people- were acutely exciting and fresh. I shared their excitement, but being away from our safe haven had also given me paranoia. People could be watching us right now, knowing our plans…

"Relax, Rose," Sydney said quietly. "The airport's crawling with guardians." I smiled gratefully at her, my fears lessened but not entirely vanished. I hadn't become so successful in my own operations by being careless, and I was a firm believer that a little fear could save your life. Our cockney-accented taxi driver beeped, cursed and fought his way through the afternoon traffic for us, and we arrived at the hotel room with an hour before nightfall. Abe was talking rapidly on the phone, as was Sydney, and Lissa was busy getting the computer systems set up, but in the grandeur of the Royal London's penthouse, the rest of us were content to stand around making animal-like noises of delight (or, as in Christian's case, jump from bed-to-bed in unabated glee).

Quickly, though, we got over our immaturity as we remembered what we were here for, and made our way into the grand, gold-and navy- decked living room to go over our briefing plan.

"Does everyone remember their jobs?" Sydney asked calmly. "Let's go over it once more. The sale will occur at Big Ben at approximately 6pm."

"I'll be sitting in a café twenty meters away, with Adrian," my father started. "When I see the buyer leave, I press a button on my pager which will alert the rest of you he's moving off."

"I'll leave the café two minutes later, and step inside the police van waiting. We'll follow Dashkov in his car for a bit, and then the police will pull him over because the car he's driving has an outdated license plate." Adrian grinned. "Big mistake." Sydney nodded.

"Good. Who's next?"

"Mia and I follow the buyer for a couple blocks until we know where he's going. We have to be suspicious, and drive him towards the bridge."

"I'll have your backs, and I'll be trying to get an ID on him," Christian confirmed.

"Once he's crossing the bridge, we take the footpath under the bridge and wait for Rose's signal," Mia finished.

"I jump out from inside this street vendor's stall halfway along the bridge and tackle him, taking any weapons he has. Christian will be jogging past and help me by pretending he thinks I'm a mugger and helping the guy up. Hopefully, he's so confused we have time to disarm him and take the briefcase."

"I'll be in a taxi, driving along the bridge. I stop, beep my horn, and you two drag him over to the car and off we go," Sydney finished. "We take him straight to guardian HQ."

"Sounds good," Adrian said cheerfully. "We'd better get into position, it's nearly half-five."

"Alright. Rose, you're leaving the hotel via the fire escape. Lissa and Mia, you're coming with me in the elevator, there's a stolen taxi waiting for us in the underground basement. I'll drop you off near Westminster, and you can walk to Big Ben from there. Christian, you'd better get changed into your running stuff, take the back door and run along the river for a while. Abe, you can leave through the front doors, Adrian, you can leave five minutes later, and so help me god, if you get drunk, I am _never_ speaking to you again," Sydney finished, a scary gleam in her eye. Adrian raised his hands in defence rather sheepishly.

"Point taken." With nods and a few nervous, encouraging smiles, we went our separate ways. After checking I had my phone and my gun, I slipped out of the fire escape and made my way along the river. A few moments later, I saw Christian jog past me, his face a mask of perfect concentration. I checked my phone casually, noting the time was 5:43. There wasn't long to go, now. Like I usually did in times of stress, my brain began to run through the best and worst case scenario.

_Best case scenario: Nobody's hurt, the bridge is fairly empty, the deal goes off without a hitch, nothing intervenes, nobody forgets their job._ _Worst case scenario: People get hurt, Dashkov and the buyer argue, the deal don't go through, the police intervene, the bridge is full, somebody panics_. There were literally a thousand things that could go wrong here, each worse than the other. I kept telling myself over and over that it would all be fine, that it was going to work out, that nothing and nobody could stop us now. The wheels were in motion, and all we had to do now was to guide their direction.

I was to be partly right, and partly wrong.

* * *

**I'm sorry it's short but better than nothing. Part 2 by Sunday at the latest, I promise!**


	5. Intervention, Part Two

**Thanks to a series of guest reviews, I felt encouraged enough to write this tonight when I really should be sleeping...So, whoever you are, give yourselves a hand! Yay for Intervention, Part Two! **

Previously: _Nothing and nobody could stop us now. The wheels were in motion, and all we had to do now was to guide their direction. I was to be partly right, and partly wrong. _

* * *

Dimitri glanced at the message that had just popped up on his phone, trying- and succeeding- in keeping his poker face intact. It was important now, more than ever, for him not to lose his cool, no matter how much those words angered him.

_'Hathaway's working for Dashkov. Get her, and you get him.' _

It seemed to be suggesting that Rose was around here, probably waiting until the buyer had the cases, and would then intercept them and take them back to Dashkov. He didn't doubt that Dashkov was capable of such backstabbing- on the contrary, the man would do it in a heartbeat- but a resolute part of his heart was shouting that Rose wouldn't do it, she was too independent, too…good. He shook that thought off with a groan, knowing that agonizing over Rose's motives would be yet more self-inflicted torture, and quite frankly, he'd done plenty of that over the last few months.

Stuck between ignoring the message and taking it to heart, Dimitri wondered what the sender's motives could be. Was this somebody trying to implicate Rose? Or somebody on her team deciding to rat her out? Or was it the same mysterious benefactor that had sent them the coordinates? All three possibilities had been hotly debated already by Mason and Eddie, and the conversation had come to no concrete conclusion, so here they were- stuck, once more, in a horrible kind of limbo that was a CIA agent's worst nightmare.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead tiredly before glancing at the car's digital clock. The green blinking numbers read five-fifty-three, and they were circling near Piccadilly Circus. Their mysterious benefactor hadn't tipped them off as to whereabouts in London the deal was to go off, so they had teams covering all the major monuments. His mouth tugged up into an unwilling smile. If the message was correct, and Rose was involved, it was probably a good guess. She always did have a flair for the dramatic. Suddenly, the mini microphone in his ear crackled to life.

"We got eyes on Dashkov," Alberta said, her abrupt voice made slightly tinny due to the mike. "God-damn it, there's too many people to do anything. He'll see us."

"You want backup?" Mason called.

"No, he'll panic and bolt, and then the whole goddamn thing will have been for nothing," Mikhail's voice said calmly. "Hold your position, we'll find the buyer, and then you can grab him." Mason made a face, but they all knew the older agent was correct. If Dashkov was anything like what Dimitri remembered, he would be able to smell a fed a mile away. Crowding him would do them no good at all.

"Okay, we got movement," Mikhail's voice called. "Head towards the river, take the main roads or you'll be suspicious. We're on foot, I'll keep you posted." Eddie nodded grimly and swerved, weaving through the evening traffic, much to the outrage of London's population of taxi drivers.

"Oi! Lousy, self-serving, no good, mother-f-"Eddie rolled his window up, seeming unperturbed.

"Yeah, just wait until we save your asses from freakin' nuclear war," Mason muttered. "Doubt we'll be lousy, self serving so-and-so's then", he said in an overly injured tone, drawing a reluctant smile from Dimitri. As he sat in the back, he was still toying with the phone, looking at the simple, single-line message that gave rise to such confusion, conflicted emotions_. Maybe Rose isn't involved,_ he reasoned. _Maybe it's Dashkov, trying to throw us off his trail, confuse me_. He sighed as he leant back in his seat, snapping the phone shut.

Just like Rose, he was to be partly right, and partly wrong.

* * *

RPOV

I twiddled my fingers anxiously, checking my watch for the umpteenth time. It was cold and musty, crouched behind the crappy souvenirs van being run by a dark-skinned man I strongly suspected was a Guardian, because he had completely ignored my presence completely, and for that I was grateful. Suddenly, as I heard Big Ben toll at quarter past the hour, the mike in my ear crackled to life.

"Mother-fucking Dashkov, gonna fuck him up the-"

"Adrian, please." My father's voice was strained. "We knew it was a long shot. The deal went off without a hitch," his voice said, addressing the rest of us. "But it wasn't Dashkov who showed up for intercept, it was another guy who looked a lot like him. By the time we realised, it was too late."

"Buyer's about a kilometre from the bridge," Lissa's voice said. "He's walking fast, he'll be with you in five minutes. The case-it's small and silver, made of metal-it's in his inside pocket. Be careful, Rose and Christian, he's spooked and armed."

"Well, we _think_ he's armed," Mia chimed in. "It's either a gun in his trouser pocket, or he was _very_ happy to see-"

"Mia, this is so not the time," Sydney's sharp voice said.

"Hey, comedic relief has its merits."

"Not in the middle of a coveops," She retorted.

"I can't get an ID on the buyer," Christian said grimly. "Rose, he's about six-three, built like a boxer. Speaks with a German accept, but he looks Eastern European. He's wearing a dark blue coat, brown pants and black shoes with a black scarf."

"Ew," Mia complained. "_Hello_, terrible fashion sense." There was silence over the mike for a moment, then Sydney sighed.

"Yeah, okay, I'll give you that one. Rose, I'm in position. Do what you've gotta do." I nodded, taking a deep breath and peering out around the corner of the stall. Without taking his head out of the dirty magazine he was reading, the owner of the stall threw a small, black object back towards me and I caught it, surprised. I grinned when I realized it was a mini pair of binoculars, and once more admired the Guardian's ability to infiltrate pretty much everywhere, wondering in the back of my mind where the real owner of this shop was. The bridge wasn't jostling with people as I had feared it would be, but it was by no means empty. There were tourists, joggers, businessmen and women, the occasional stripper and screaming children/taxi drivers. _And somewhere among all of this, there is a crazy person with information capable of emptying every last creature from this world_, I mused.

Or at the very least, imposing his own culture upon it through fear and extortion.

But the first one sounds better, we'll go with that.

"Rose, do you see him?" Christian's voice asked just at the moment my eyes focussed on a man with dark hair, bad skin with the atrocious fashion sense Christian had described, not to mention a very shifty look in his eyes.

"I've got him," I said grimly. "_Shit,_ Chris, the guy's built like a prize fighter. I'm gonna need some help."

"Ready and waiting," he said cheerfully, and I held my breath as the nameless man shuffled his feet, moving what seemed like agonisingly slowly towards my line of sight. Suddenly, the dark-skinned street vendor craned his neck to look at me with deep eyes, and spoke one word.

"Now," he said hoarsely. I nodded grimly, and charged out into the middle of the path, grabbing him by his expensive coat and sending the both of us crashing down into the cobblestoned pavement. I took most of his fall, and while he dealt with the shock, I elbowed him squarely in the jaw, hard enough so he'd see stars, and yanked the Glock out of his trouser pocket. People around us were gasping, pointing or sidestepping, and as the man snarled, delivering a crushing blow to my kidneys, one very angry voice rang out above the clamour.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing? HEY!" Christian Ozera yelled, and boy did he look _pissed._ He leaned down, grabbing me bodily by the collar and throwing me a meter away, into the gutter with a little bit too much satisfaction for my liking. I heard him helping the man up, sounding concerned.

"You okay, man? Do you want me to call the police?" The man looked beautifully dazed, blood trickling from his lip, and I saw Sydney's taxi come screeching up on the road part of the bridge, honking the horn loud. Christian swung around with a hard punch, making the man stagger towards the open door of the van, shoving him inside. Still sore, I followed, and the van took off before the door had slammed shut, wheels screeching, leaving a bridge full of very perplexed Londoners in our wake.

"N-Nice work," I gasped to Christian, who grinned at me, seeming very pleased with himself, but, like me, too out of breath to manage much else other than happiness in the shared 'we-got-the-bad-guy' moment. The buyer was out cold, sprawled across the back of the van, and Sydney's driving wasn't doing much to encourage consciousness.

"Rose, I'm gonna let you out here," Sydney called. "It's only a block to the hotel, and you need to go back in through the fire exit, so this is the best way to get there. We'll drop him off at HQ and come back for you. It would be great if you could get a head start on ID-ing him in the meantime?" I nodded, smacking Christian a high-five, and ruffling a disgruntled Sydney's hair as I stepped out of the van, which didn't even stop moving, only slowed to let me out, then sped up again. Adrenaline was still pumping nearly painfully through my veins, and I was exhilarated with how well it had gone. Sure, the operation had got off to a shaky start, but we had succeeded with what we had needed to get done. The plans were safe. Nobody was hurt and the drama we had induced had been minimal.

I would like very, very much to announce cheerfully that next, I went up the unlocked fire exit, back into my room, changed into my pyjamas, ordered room service and ID'd the buyer within minutes.

Only, as you, dear reader, know by now, nothing in my life is ever, _ever_ that easy.

"Damn," I cursed, jangling the locked fire exit. I would have to find another way in, I knew there were cameras here, and being arrested for trespassing would be an inconvenience. I turned towards the building, straightening my hair, and hoping the concierge shift had changed, or the concierge's eyes weren't sharp enough to realise that I hadn't actually left my room in the first place. As I turned, I heard a loud crack, hearing it resonate within my skull much before I felt the pain that it brought. I gasped, my legs bucking from the force as my vision went sideways. I was grabbed before I could hit the ground, knowing in a very quiet, very deadly part of my mind that I could not struggle, that I could not make a sound. Dashkov would only kill me quicker.

Instead, I closed my eyes as I was deposited on the cold, dirty floor of a van, which then took off as the door slammed shut, noting with irony how fast my position had changed from person-who-hits-stuff to person-getting-hit-by-stuff. As the pain faded, I had one thought, played over and over again in my mind: _At least it was me. _At least it wasn't Lissa or Mia or Abe. I would never forgive myself if something happened to any of my friends. At least Dashkov had gotten to me first. I had no idea how he had found me, but it didn't seem important now. After a moment or two, I forced myself to open my eyes, and a gasp escaped my lips as I stared, wide-eyed, slacked jawed, into the face of my captor, feeling like, tired as the cliché was, like a deer caught in headlights, immobilized, paralysed.

Dimitri Belikov was looking down at me with a small but triumphant smile.

_Oh, shit. _

* * *

**HA! Did you see that coming? No? Well, neither did I…You guys are the best for putting up with my sporadic updates and terrible, rage-inducing cliffhangers… But guess what? I'm on school holidays now, so this can go MUCH faster! Leave me some love and I'll get it out ASAP!**

**Em xx**


	6. Game Over

**Guys, I feel terrible….It's been more than a month since Rosemarie Returns was updated. Yeah. A MONTH! Many thanks to the guest reviewer who has so determinedly reminded me that this fic exists, and people want updates. You're the only reason this was updated tonight! As always, reviewers are much loved.**

* * *

**Previously:**

**_"After a moment or two, I forced myself to open my eyes, and a gasp escaped my lips as I stared, wide-eyed, slacked jawed, into the face of my captor, feeling like, tired as the cliché was, like a deer caught in headlights, immobilized, paralysed._**

**_Dimitri Belikov was looking down at me with a small but triumphant smile._**

**_Oh, shit."_**

* * *

I did a few more moments of impersonating a goldfish before I found my voice.

"I-I don't…" I trailed off, narrowing my eyes at him. "Oh. _You_." It seemed like an appropriate opening line, seeing as I had no idea whatsoever how I was supposed to act right now. He grinned at me, and pulled me up to sit on the seat next to him. His touch was familiar but firm, and there was no hostility in his brown eyes, only the similar coolness and a mild curiosity.

"Me." I touched my fingers to my temple where he'd hit me and felt blood.

"Not fair. Ambush," I complained, struggling to organize my thoughts into coherency.

"She's not even touched you yet, Belikov," Eddie called. "We were all prepared for Hurricane Hathaway for nothing?" Dimitri grimaced.

"Take a half-hour raincheck on that hurricane. I think she has a concussion."

"No," I said, hearing my words slur as I fought to focus on his face. "Don't have a concussion. You _gave_ me a concussion. Difference, comrade."

"You'll live," he said dryly. "It's only mild."

"Whoa, did you see that?" I exclaimed. "A flamingo was riding a bicycle!" Eddie and Mason exchanged looks that said 'mild, my arse'.

"Do you not want to know why I jumped you, Rose?" I grinned, confident I knew the answer to this one.

"Because two months without bonking me was driving you crazy?" I suggested. The car swerved as Mason snickered.

"You have _no _idea, Rose," he called, and I sniggered. Dimitri's face peered down at me, deadly serious.

"Rose, I need to know why you're in London."

"C'mon, comrade, that was funny," I complained. When I got no response from him, I rolled my eyes. "Jeez. If anyone sees my personality, please contact Crimestoppers," I said, in what I believed to be a brilliant impersonation of him.

"Rose." He was exasperated now, and it occurred to me that possibly, just possibly, he'd been in London for a similar reason. Then I remembered: the Guardians had tipped the CIA off, and obviously it had worked just a little bit too well. My mind was racing. Had this been part of the plan all along? For me to be captured? Who had told Dimitri where we were staying? Fear hit me like a freight train, leaving me breathless as I realised he was still waiting for an answer.

"Ugh-sorry, comrade, concussion," I groaned, hoping I could fake it. A small smile tugged at the edge of his mouth.

"Rose, I've watched you jump out of buildings and walk away from bombsites. I'm not falling for that, he said dryly, arching an eyebrow." I went crosseyed.

"Whoa, black circles, shooting stars, gonna throw up, gonna pass out," I groaned, and then, somewhat to my chagrin, I did both of those things, in that order.

* * *

Lissa stalked up to her boyfriend, grabbing him by the collar, and delivered a echoing slap across his face that made him see stars and stumble backwards, clutching his pale cheek where a bright red handprint was blossoming.

"Son of a bitch!" She screeched. "How could you leave her, Ozera? They think she is a _crimina_l! There is an international bounty on her head, _dead or alive_!" As she went in for another slap, Adrian grabbed her, dragging her backwards towards a pale-faced Mia. They were standing out the back of the hotel, staring at the place where it was clear Rose had been ambushed. She'd dropped her cellphone, and there was a few drops of blood on the dark pavement. Christian was staring, dumbfounded, but not at his girlfriend: at the place his best friend had been taken from, as if he expected her to walk around the corner at any moment with a 'fooled ya' grin.

"It was not Christian's fault, it was mine," Sydney said mechanically. "Dashkov must have followed us, he must have known…somehow."

"But that would mean somebody else knew where we were staying," Abe said, making everyone feel sick. "That means somebody we think is on our side isn't." Sydney's phone rang shrilly, and she snapped it open immediately.

"Sage. What? Why were we not informed of this?" She paused, pushing the phone further into her ear. "I don't…What? Another pause. Are you sure?" Sydney cursed. "Yeah, I get it. Fine," she finished curtly, ending the phone call and taking a deep breath as she turned to face us.

"There's good news and bad news. Firstly, Dashkov doesn't have Rose," she said softly, and there were a few sighs of relief.

"Then who does, Sydney?" Abe said, his face grave, clearly seething with controlled anger. Sydney drew a deep breath, and set her jaw, her eyes glittering.

"Dimitri Belikov does."

"Dimitri?" Lissa echoed, her eyes flattening. "He ambushed her. Boy, am I going fuck up his shi-"

"The guardians tipped the CIA off, didn't they," Christian said quietly. "Belikov followed us back here from the exchange and snuck up on her. He probably thinks she has the case." A quiet silence descended upon the group before Mia, who had been studying Sydney intently, spoke up.

"Sydney, was that the good news or the bad news?"

"The good news," Sydney muttered, so pale she was almost translucent. "They…told me...the guy we thought Dashkov was trading with, he…wasn't a buyer. He was a decoy, the whole thing was a decoy."

"H-How did they find out?" Lissa asked, nervously biting her lip.

"When they opened the case, it exploded. Injured a few Guardians. And when they went to interview the buyer, they found him dead. Think it was poison," Sydney replied.

"This is bad," Adrian muttered, turning around to kick the wall. "Shit!"

"It means Dashkov's got access to both high-quality poison and explosives," Sydney said, her voice, though appeared calm, actually shaking. "If he can find us, or Rose and Dimitri, he won't hesitate to use it. We need to get back to HQ as soon as possible."

"It also means something else," Abe said gravely, and everyone's head turned to him.

"What?" Lissa spoke up.

"A tactic like that is a decoy," Abe started, rubbing his forehead.

"So what doesn't he want us to see?" Mia questioned, then gasped. "Oh. _Oh_." Abe nodded grimly.

"The real buyer. Dashkov's shown his hand to us now. A mole, explosives, poison and a deadly serious buyer. The next round won't be covert. The stakes are high. We win, we get the plans. We lose, everyone dies. Game _over_."

* * *

"Ow," I groaned as I blinked my eyes open once more. I was in a small but elegant hotel room, laying on the bed. A fire was crackling in one corner, and there was an armchair in the other, occupied by a sleeping Dimitri Belikov. My eyes narrowed into slits and my muscles coiled. I swung myself off the bed onto wobbly legs, and, brimming with anger, grabbed the front of his gorgeously, ridiculously long hair and pulled, hard. He woke with a yelp probably more high-pitched than he would have liked, his eyes widening in an _oh shit_ expression.

"You!" I screeched, looking wildly around for a weapon. _Yeah, real smooth, Rose. Totally threaten an armed CIA agent when you're barefoot, unarmed, and in what seemed suspiciously like pyjamas._ Aha! Weapon spied. I grabbed the fire poker, and swung around, intent on holding it to his throat. He ducked, grabbed the chair and used it as a shield as I backed him into the corner.

"Rose," he warned, holding his hands out placating. "Don't do anything stupi-"

"Shut up," I growled, ramming an elbow into his stomach. "You slimy, facetious prick-" I totally did not see the hard kick slamming into my shins that knocked me to the ground, sending the fire poker rolling in the other direction into the fire. I grabbed his leg and pulled, sending him to the ground with a crash, swearing. After a minute of tussling, I managed to get him pinned, and grabbed the poker- one end of which was now red hot- and held it to his throat. Dimitri closed his eyes for a second as if thinking _"Note to self: never give her a fireplace_" and then punched me, hard, in the stomach, knocking all the wind out of me with an oof. He stood over me calmly, crossing his arms.

"Nice to have you back, Hathaway. Finished with your tantrum?" He asked coolly. I stared up in disbelief.

"You knocked me out and kidnapped me!" I said incredulously. "What do you think, genius?"

"You were holding a red hot fire poker to my throat ten seconds ago and I'm not whining about it," he retorted, a slight smile on his lips as he pulled me up. "Call it even?" He suggested.

"Hmmph," I snorted, mainly because it was glaringly obvious that I didn't really have a choice. His smile faded as he pulled me to sit down on the bed.

"Rose, why are you here?" He said quietly.

"How did you find me?" I shot back.

"We saw Christian," he replied. "Followed you back. Are you some kind of vigilante now? He asked. Or did they tip you off, too?"

"Who?" I echoed.

"We got an anonymous tip off that Dashkov was selling here," he told me, shrugging. "Only reason we knew where to come. Did you get the same one?" I licked my lips, and shrugged.

"I can't really say." Dimitri closed his eyes briefly, and then ran a hand through his hair- his usual subconscious routine whenever he was frustrated.

"Damnit, Rose, I'm trying to help you," he hissed. "Look, Rose, it's obvious you're not with Dashkov, we get it now. The murders…I know it wasn't you."

"Murders?" I echoed.

"Somebody's been killing agents in New York while you've been gone," he said lowly. "Thought it was you at first but the victimology was completely different."

"Someone pretended to be me?" I echoed, with more anger this time. "Dimitri, that means somebody's trying to-"

"Set you up, yeah," he said grimly. "Means Dashkov's got at least one set of eyes in our investigation. Trying to frame you."

"I'm going to kill him," I hissed. Dimitri nodded.

"We'll get him, Rose, but if you know anything more, if you know who tipped us off…I need to know," he said gently, squeezing my hand. "We…got off to a bad start, but we don't have to be enemies," he said, hesitating, studying my expression carefully. "We could just-" his phone beeped with Eddie's number, and Dimitri rolled his eyes.

"Two secs. He's just down the hall." He flashed me a smirk. "Don't go anywhere, now." I replied with a few well chosen fingers.

"Yeah, I'll try," I said, slumping back down onto the bed. My mind was racing. Should I tell Dimitri about the Guardians? I couldn't. _But if I did, he could help us_, I thought. _I had made a promise to the Guardians not to disclose anything or anyone involved- I couldn't tell Dimitri that they were planning to play along, then steal the plans right at the very end, could I? You can give everyone their names back. You can get Dashkov legally, find the mole, and everything will go back to normal. Well, as normal as life gets_, I conceded. I had just made up my mind, convincing myself it was the best course of action when I head a rustling noise, and saw to my amazement a piece of paper slipped underneath the door.

I saw the shadow on the hardwood floor before it slipped away once again and I was left staring at a piece of innocent-looking hotel stationary. Fingers trembling, I opened it up to the familiar handwriting: the unmistakeable handwriting of the Benefactor. _The handwriting of the Guardians_. There was only one sentence on the page, but that was enough. It said everything it needed to, and it turned my blood into ice in seconds as my grip on it tightened till my knuckles whitened with fear and anger. I smoothed the paper out with trembling hands, and laid it in the fire. I sat there for a moment, watching flames lick the edges as those ominous foreboding words glowed with red.

_"You tell them, we kill him."_

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**:O Anybody else hate the Guardians right now? I will try for another chapter before/during the weekend. In the meantime, leave me your thoughts!**

**Em xx**


	7. Blood

**Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it's a semi-quick update!**

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_"If you tell them, we kill him."_

_"If you tell them, we kill him."_

_"If you tell them, we kill him."_

I sat motionless on the bed, staring into the fire. It took me a while to realise that I was shaking. It was a mix of fear and shock and righteous anger, but also this intense kind of…disappointment. The Guardians had failed me. They had given off this holier-than-thou aura that I'd been so, so stupid to fall for, it almost made me cringe. I should have known better. Why had I trusted them? All I had ever been, all I would ever be, was a pawn in somebody else's game. I had trusted, and I'd been hurt. Again. _You'd think I would have learnt after the first time,_ I mused. _That nobody can be trusted. That believing in people's goodwill is futile, and utterly brainless._

But I'm not very good at the whole self-pity thing. I prefer to shout and scream and break things, and I rolled off the bed, intent on dismantling as much of this room in my rage as was physically possible. Just as I'd picked up a few expensive-looking glasses off of the bedside cabinet, Dimitri reappeared, a smile on his face that made my heart ache. _"If you tell them, we kill him."_

The words played over and over again in my mind until they were all I could think about. It was a paralysing, thought-numbing kind of fear. I'd spent the last two months terrified that my actions would get him hurt or worse, but now, confronted by choosing the truth over his life, I realised I'd had no idea how awful it would be. And the dreadful irony was that in the past, as Rosemarie, I wouldn't have flinched to get rid of somebody if it meant returning my good name. I had grown up since then. I had grown up, got wiser, collected a few more scars and fallen in love.

_Ah fate, thou art a cruel bitch,_ I mused, studying the man in front of me, who was leaning against the door, barefoot, wearing jeans, a black button-down and a sheepish kind of _I-have-no-idea-what-to-say_ smile.

"Are you-"he looked away briefly, then back at me. "Are you…feeling okay? You look a little pale," he commented, his brow wrinkling." I was sure your concussion wouldn't last very long…I really didn't mean to hit you that hard, Roza," he trailed of anxiously. I forced a smile at him.

"I'm fine."

"Roza?" He lowered his voice.

"Yeah?" I mimicked him, just to alleviate a little bit of the stress I was feeling. He rolled his eyes in response to my maturity.

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" I repeated innocently. His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Playing dumb doesn't suit such an intelligent woman.:

"Asking questions you really don't want the answers to is even dumber," I retorted. His lips twitched a little, and he sighed.

"Fine. It's fine. You'll be on a plane back to the US within two hours, anyway."

"What? _Seriously_?" My voice came out a little squeakier than I had hoped. He smirked.

"_Seriously_." He mimicked me, goddamn him. A small smile curved around the edges of his mouth. It was one I recognised very well, it was his _aha-I've-got-you-now_ smirk that I couldn't help find as gorgeous as it was irritating, simultaneously making me want to punch him out and do very uncivilized things to him. _Such is love_, I mused.

"Unless," he drawled, clearly enjoying himself. "Unless you answer a few of my questions, and you can stay, and help us catch Dashkov." He arched an eyebrow. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to miss that, would you, Roza?" I gritted my teeth.

"What kind of questions would be involved?" I said coolly.

"Where you've been the past two months. Where the buyer, and therefore, the plans are. And who sent us the coordinates," he replied promptly. _Ah, fantastic_, I thought tiredly. The exact three questions I can't answer without having my so-called-friends kill him. Just peachy. Noticing how intent his gaze was upon me, I decided to stall.

"A man who knows what he wants," I mused aloud, taking a step towards him. "I like that." His smile widened to a grin as he did the same, catching my hip with one hand and framing my face with the other.

"You always did," he murmured. He knew exactly what I was doing, but he didn't call me on it, probably because he wanted this as much as I did.

"Rose," he started gently. I shook my head.

"Don't. Just for a minute, just stop," I whispered. I was rewarded with a beautiful smile.

"I think I can do that," he breathed, leaning in to place a tentative kiss on my forehead, then trailing down towards my lips. I hummed my appreciation, my backbone tingling. It had been a long time since this had happened, and now, every single nerve in my body was stirring with interest, my skin burning wherever I was touching his. His lips touched mine, and I closed my eyes, remembering how this felt, a thousand memories hitting me at once.

I had no doubt that, in hindsight, I would realise this to be a very, very bad decision, doing far more harm than good to the already fucked-up dynamic of our relationship, but in that split second, I was tired of being careful. I didn't want to care anymore, so I leaned forwards into the kiss, reaching up to weave my fingers through his hair as I pressed him playfully back against the door, feeling his chest move slightly in amusement. It was at once a sweet, sad and beautiful moment in time, where the outside world had ceased to exist, it was just us, in this room, in our own tiny little bubble, sharing something that felt as simple, as easy and as necessary as breathing.

Predictably, it was at that exact moment that a hail of bullets shattered through the window.

And then suddenly, there was loud noise, and yelling, and then Dimitri and I were lying side-by-side on the ground as bullets whizzed through the air. Dimitri gripped my hand, his own wide eyes meeting mine. I raised my head slightly to see a tall, thin figure, dressed all in black, standing on the opposite balcony. They turned quickly, shouldered their weapon, and disappeared, just as quickly as they had come. I made to try and stand up on my shaking legs, but Dimitri's arm around my waist pulled me roughly back down so I landed on top of him, both of us shaking as we tried to process what had just happened.

It was at that point I saw the blood. Lots of blood. Far too much blood, everywhere; on the walls, on the carpet, on him, on me.

A split second later, I realised with cold terror that I wasn't sure if it was mine or his.

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**Oh. Mygosh. I actually just did that. I haven't decided yet, so you tell me: who got hurt? Who was the shooter? Until next time-**

**Em xx**


	8. Betrayal?

**Hello, everyone! It's been too long: but guess what? I did some planning and with this chapter, we are more than halfway through 'Rosemarie Returns'. It only gets more exciting from here on in!**

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I felt the power of the bullet rip through the air near me as we fell to the ground. I smelt the gunpowder, I saw the fear in Dimitri's eyes as his arms wrapped around me, cushioning my fall. Time slowed, then stopped as I closed my eyes, registering the warmth in my stomach that could only be blood, and lots of it. For all I know, I could have had my eyes closed for three seconds or three hours, because when I opened them, the air was silent. Dimitri still hadn't let go of me, his eyes were wide and paralysed with fear.

"Me or you?" I asked in a small voice, not wanting to let him go, but reluctantly rolling away. My head cleared and as we both sat up, I felt like somebody had replaced my blood with icewater, because when I looked down, I saw blood soaking his shirt, and my mouth went dry.

"Oh no. No, no no," I stammered.

"Rose, get out of here," he said, his voice strained. I ignored him, and with trembling fingers, ripped at his shirt, wanting to throw up as I saw the wound. It was in line with his bellybutton, to the right, and whilst is wasn't going to kill him, it could have very well shattered his pelvis. At the moment of shots fired, I realised he must have twisted my body away from the window instinctively. And what was more, because of our height difference, if he hadn't twisted, the trajectory of the bullet would have caught me clean in the back of my chest, ripping through my major organs. That thought alone was enough to stop my heart. I couldn't think, couldn't get enough oxygen to my brain. His eyelids fluttered.

"No, no, Dimitri, please," I begged. "Don't close your eyes. Please. Keep looking at me." With a grimace, he forced his eyes open.

"That's it," I breathed, finishing bandaging the wound with the bedsheets as best I could. Now came the scary part. I took a huge breath.

"Can you move your legs?" I asked, and he smiled at me comfortingly, giving my hand a squeeze, and did so. I let out a huge, shuddering breath of relief. By some miracle, the bullet seemed to have missed damaging his lower spine and pelvis. One of these days when I had nothing to do, I had a long list of gods, goddesses and other miscellaneous deities to thank.

"Rose? Dimitri?" Mason's voice called.

"In here!" I yelled, and Mason entered, looked as pale as a ghost.

"He needs a hospital," I said, my voice cracking with emotion. Mason nodded.

"On its way. Are you injured, Rose?" Overcome with emotion, I simply shook my head.

"Is-Is Eddie-" I was almost afraid to ask.

"A grazed shoulder and a wounded ego," Mason said shortly. "He'll be okay."

"Roza," Dimitri managed. "You-should-go."

"I'm not going anywhere," I said fiercely. He met my eyes with determination.

"The bullet was meant for you," he said pointedly. "You could be in a lot of danger just sitting here. Find your friends. Do the right thing."

"If Dimitri's right, you know that everyone you're around is in danger too." Mason gestured to Dimitri's wound. "_That _proves that." Mason's bluntness surprised me, as did his narrowed eyes and expression that bordered on hostility.

"Mase…I don't know who did this," I stammered.

"Don't you, Rose?" He challenged. "You have some pretty powerful friends, from what we've heard. I'm sure they wouldn't lose any sleep over taking out a few CIA agents to get their precious Rosemarie back." I flinched at the full name, and the metaphor it held.

"You think I want to hurt you?" I asked, unable to completely mask the hurt in my voice with anger. "Come off it, Mase, you know I would never do that." He shrugged.

"Sometimes, Rose, I think that I never knew anything about you in the first place." The words stung, especially coming from the guy who had so ardently defended me and my innocence in the past, but he was right.

"Look-Mase-I know you're angry, but I'm not leaving him. Okay? This thing is way bigger than us, and right now it doesn't even matter. What matters is you guys, that you're safe, and I don't think I can handle the guilt if something happens to you," I said, my voice breaking. Mason's expression softened a little, and he nodded at me, reaching out to briefly squeeze my shoulder.

"We should get him downstairs, then." I exhaled with relief that Mason wasn't really angry, just worried, and that more than anything, he was testing my loyalty, testing how much I really was willing to lose in order to clear my name. And that was a lot of things- but it wasn't them.

"I can walk," Dimitri grumbled.

"The hell you can," Mason and I replied at the same time, making us both grin at each other as we grabbed his arms and slung them around our shoulders, helping him into the next room. As we managed to get through the doorway with Dimitri muttering about insubordination and embarrassment, a huge crash startled me as I was tackled to the floor. Instinctively, I brought a fist up, hard, into the chest of my attacker, panic taking over once again.

"Rose, calm down!" A familiar voice hissed, and I realised with shock that it was Adrian. My head swimming, I blinked and saw my father holding Mason to the ground, blood trickling from his lip, a gun to his temple, and a particularly murderous-looking Mia had a weapon trained on Dimitri, who looked pale as crimson stained the bandage once more. Any other time, I would have been thrilled to see them, looking all badass and avenging-angel, but their presence now struck ice into my veins once more.

"What. Are. You. Doing?" I gasped, looking around at my friends.

"Saving your ass," Christian drawled, locking the door on an irate and injured Eddie. I shook my head.

"No. No, go without me. I need to get him to a hospital. Adrian, let go!" I yelled, but his grip on me tightened. I spied Sydney, and my memory flashed back to the black figure who had shot Dimitri.

"You!" I screamed. "This is your fault. You hurt him!" I wrenched myself free of Adrian to lunge for her, but Adrian shoved me to the ground, gasping, then stood defensively in front of a shaken looking Sydney.

"Let's go, Rose," Lissa's deadly calm voice said. I met Mason's bright gaze that was alive with hurt and betrayal and…hate, and felt sick to my stomach.

"Mase," I trailed off, my heart breaking at the emotions in his eyes.

"Don't even bother," he snapped, his gaze burning into me.

"Rose." Dimitri's voice was quiet. "Go with them. Find Dashkov. We'll catch up." I knelt next to him, feeling horribly helpless, horribly hopeless.

"I didn't…I didn't mean for-" I started and he nodded gently.

"I know, sweetheart." Summoning what seemed scarily like the final bit of his energy, he leaned over and pressed his lips against mine. When we broke away, his eyes were gentle, but resigned. Somewhere, we both knew this was a much bigger goodbye then it seemed. Next time we met, things would be more complicated. Next time, it would end in tears, I was sure of it. It was just a matter of time.

"Go," he said hoarsely, a smile twitching at his lips. "Go save the world, Roza. Save a piece for us, we won't be far behind you." I smiled at the half-challenge, half-promise, and let somebody-Christian, maybe, take my arms and quickly pull me outside. His hold on me seemed half-supportive, and half as if he was ensuring I wasn't going to run away or attack him. He pushed me into a waiting black car, and a few moments later, Lissa and my father slipped in, as well.

"Rose, are you okay?" Lissa asked quietly, and I nodded numbly as we drove. It took me a few minutes to register we were driving towards the airport, but I didn't have the energy to ask where, or why. My hopes flickered a little as an ambulance wailed past, hopefully on the way to Dimitri, Mason and Eddie.

"He's going to be fine, Kiz," my father called, reading my thoughts. I let my face fall into my hands.

"Jesus, they're going to hate me," I mumbled, my emotions running rampant. I had no idea how to feel. Betrayed and angry was a start. Miserable for the pain I'd inflicted on Eddie and Mason. Sick with worry for Dimitri. Elated that I could help find Dashkov. Anxious that somebody was trying to kill me, even though that was really nothing new. I was shaken gently from my thoughts by Lissa, and realised we were at the airstrip.

"Where are we going?" I mumbled, sliding out of the car.

"Tell you once we're on the plane, it's safer," she muttered. Wordlessly, drained of energy, I followed her to the plane, a strange kind of anger bubbling inside me. I was sick of just being somebody's pawn, something to push around and threaten, to hurt and discard when it suited. My anger was only provoked further when I saw Sydney step out of the cockpit, clothed head-to toe in black, just like the attacker who had shot Dimitri. I didn't even realise what I was doing, but my feet crossed the distance between us. Her tired half-smile was relanced with a look of bewilderment as I grabbed her thin shoulders, slamming her against the side of the jet.

"Why?" I yelled. "Why, Sydney? He didn't do anything! He saved my life!" I screamed, my voice shaking. "Or is that why you're disappointed? That your bullet missed me?" I spat venomously.

"Rose," Sydney began, looking pale.

"Shut up!" I yelled. "Who do you think you are? Next time the Guardians want to make some kind of sick ultimatum to me, you tell them to threaten me directly, not the people I love! You're no better than Dashkov!" I roared.

"Fuck it," I heard Adrian's voice say grimly, before he tackled me to the ground then pulled me up, holding my arms behind my back. The fall stunned me, and as I came back to earth, I saw Sydney still backed up against the wall, looking shamefaced and paler than normal and like she was about to cry.

"Rose, I'm so, so sorry about the letter," she said, her voice trembling. "They did it without me knowing, it happened so fast…They thought for sure you'd tell him. I can't apologize enough."

"If you didn't know, then why did you try to kill us?" I hissed. Sydney's eyes widened.

"Rose…The person who shot at you wasn't a guardian. They would never do that." Her wide eyes implored me to believe her, and reluctantly, I knew she was right.

"That was an act of desperation, an act of opportunity," Adrian said from behind me, his grip on my arms more comforting than restricting.

"It was somebody with a personal vendetta against you and Dimitri," Lissa said quietly. "One of Dashkov's people, probably."

"We-we have to warn him, then," I choked out. "If it wasn't the guardians, then somebody else wants him dead." There was a silence, and eventually my father spoke up.

"Not likely, kiz," he reassured me. "The bullet was meant for you. If this is personal, Dimitri, Mason and Eddie should be relatively safe with you two separated." I heaved a sigh, sliding down next to Mia in a seat.

"Mason was right," I mumbled. "All I do is cause trouble and get people hurt. Speaking of those two pastimes of mine, where are we going?" Quickly, they filled me in on the other details- the fake buyer, the poison, the explosives- and the real buyer. Dismayed, I sank backwards, my eyes closing.

"Okay, so where next?"

"We're going to fly back to the US," Adrian said, passing me a chocolate bar. "Help pursue some leads over there, and lay low for a few days." Lissa squeezed my shoulder.

"Get some rest, Rose," she told me. "You look dead on your feet."

"Thanks," I mumbled, and was preparing to do just that when the familiar shrill ring of Sydney's phone cut though the relaxation, replacing it with tension.

"Sage," Sydney said tersely, and we all watched her body language. Her eyes widened slightly. "Where?" She grunted a swear word under her breath as she paced. "How do you know? How soon?" Another curse. "Fine. Yeah." Sydney met my eyes for a second. "She's okay. ETA six hours. Uh-huh." She snapped the phone shut with a grim look on her face.

"An undercover agent just spotted Dashkov's private plane landing in Abu Dhabi. This is the real deal, guys." She glanced at Adrian. "Tell the pilot to make for Dubai. We have to be there as soon as possible."

"When's it going down?" Christian spoke. Sydney gave us a tight smile.

"No rest for the wicked, I'm afraid. Dashkov doesn't spend more than one night anywhere, so the deal goes down sometime tomorrow." Sydney snapped open her phone again.

"Who are you calling?" I asked, and she offered me a small smile.

"Special Agent Dimitri Belikov. I have a funny feeling he'd be more than happy to help."

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**Yes, yes, no more waiting around, the real deal (ha! Get it?) will go down in the next two chapters. That means MAJOR drama! Exciting Stuff!**


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